Author's note: Just a reminder that after the first couple of paragraphs of the first chapter, this story went AU. Nothing else that happened in season 5 is relevant. From here on I take the story where I want it to go, not where the writers wanted it to go.
Chapter 2:
Jack sat sideways on the driver's seat of his CTU issued SUV, his legs hanging out of the open car door. He closed his phone and put it back in his pocket. Exhaustion had set in. It was just after 8 pm and the sun had set. All he wanted to do was to go back to Diane's house and crawl into the bed in his rented room and pretend that the entire day was a dream. No, correct that, a nightmare. He wanted to pretend that his one-time friend and mentor Christopher Henderson was not responsible for the death of David Palmer and the plan to kill millions with nerve gas. He wanted to pretend that David Palmer was alive and well. He wanted to pretend that Michelle and Tony were safe and living happily in The Valley with their baby daughter. He wanted to pretend that he was still Frank Flynn, oil rigger, and that Diane Huxley was still his girlfriend. He no longer wanted to be Jack Bauer. In many ways he hated Jack Bauer and all that he stood for.
If there was one positive point, it was that the nerve gas threat was over, or soon would be. It hadn't been easy, but he broke Christopher Henderson and Henderson gave up the location of the nerve gas canisters and the names of the co-conspirators. Curtis had a hazmat team on the way to secure the nerve gas and other teams had been deployed to arrest the perpetrators. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, in order to get all of the information from Henderson, Jack had pushed Henderson hard. Too hard. Whether his heart gave out or he blew a blood vessel in his brain wouldn't be known until the autopsy was complete, but either way, Henderson was dead and it was Jack's responsibility. He knew that he would have to answer for that but was relatively certain that Buchanan would back him up. Unlike previous CTU directors, who would have given Jack up in a heartbeat, Jack and Bill were on the same page, cut from the same mold. Oh, to be sure, Bill's mold had smoother edges and their methods were different, but they both had the same goal.
Jack's phone rang bringing him out of his reverie. "Bauer," he said as he flipped the phone open.
"Jack, it's Wayne Palmer,"
"Mr. Palmer, what can I do for you, sir," Jack said respectfully.
"Jack, I need to see you," Palmer said. His voice was anxious; he sounded almost short of breath. Jack could hear the pain and grief and emotion in every word he spoke.
"Is everything alright?"
"No, I need to see you. I came across some information on David's computer that you need to see. I know why he was killed."
"We already have that information. Christopher Henderson gave it to me before he died. President Palmer stumbled onto Henderson's plan to steal the nerve gas and Henderson killed your brother to keep him quiet."
"There's more to it than that, Jack," Palmer told him.
"What else? What other information do you have?"
"I can't tell you over the phone. It's not a secure line. You need to come over to my place and see it yourself," he insisted. "And Jack, don't tell anyone where you're going. Right now I'm not sure who we can trust." With that, Wayne Palmer hung up.
Jack held the phone to his ear for another second or two as if the line was going to open up spontaneously and Wayne Palmer was going to give him a better explanation, but when it didn't happen, Jack again closed the phone and threw it on the passenger seat. He turned his body so that he was sitting facing forward in the driver's seat and pulled the door closed. He sighed as he started the SUV and put it into gear sure that this was going to be a wasted trip. Wayne Palmer was grief stricken and seeing conspiracies everywhere. Christopher Henderson had no reason to lie. He was dying and he knew it. Why would he have used his last bit of energy to make up the story? No, Jack doubted that Wayne Palmer any information that he hadn't already ripped from Henderson, but he would go to see him out of simple respect for his friend, David Palmer.
Jack pulled onto the highway and mentally calculated the mileage to Wayne Palmer's condominium; the site where his older brother was fatally shot just thirteen hours earlier. It would take him at least thirty minutes. He would have to spend another half hour or so looking at Wayne's "information" before he drove another thirty minutes back to CTU. All in all he expected not to make it back to CTU for at least and hour and a half. He reached for the phone again to call Bill and let him know. That was another hour and a half before he could get any word on the search for Tony's daughter and begin to help. It was an hour and a half that he didn't want to waste.
"Buchanan," answered the weary voice on the other end.
"Bill, it's Jack. I'm going to be a while getting back to CTU."
"Why? I thought you were on your way. We have a lot to do here, Jack. I know you don't work for CTU, but I was hoping that for Tony's sake that you would help us with the investigation into Lily's kidnapping. I hate to have to say it, Jack, but we've hit a dead end on this."
"Believe me, Bill. I want to help more than anything in the world right now, but there's something that I'm obliged to do. Expect me back there in about an hour and a half. If I can make it sooner, I'll be there."
"Where are you going?" Bill asked. "Since you're in one of our vehicles, I think I have the right to know."
"I'd like to tell you, but for the moment, I think it's best if I just stay quiet on the subject. I need you to trust me, Bill. I'll tell you everything when I get to CTU."
"Alright, I guess I don't have much choice in this, especially since I suspect that you've already disabled the tracking device that was installed in the car."
Jack found himself smiling. "Gee Bill, you know me better than I thought. Mason and Chappelle would have called IT and told them to track me before they figured out that the first thing I did when I got in the car this morning was to kill the tracker."
"Actually, I can't take the credit," Bill admitted. "Tony warned me that you'd do it. I was in to see him a few minutes ago. He asked when you'd be back and I said I didn't know your ETA, but I could have Chloe track you in your car. Tony just laughed and said not to bother. He said he could never find you when he needed to and he had the tech guys hide trackers in every conceivable location but that you always found them."
"After a while it was a game," Jack said. The moment had suddenly turned light and he wished that it could stay that way. "I think Tony laid awake nights trying to figure out where to hide trackers. How's Tony doing?"
"Physically, the doctor is pleased with his progress. Emotionally, he's a wreck. He found out about Michelle and right after that I had to tell him that Lily had been kidnapped. To say that he's devastated would be an understatement. Right now the only thing he's got to hang onto is the possibility that he'll get his daughter back."
"Do you have any leads?" Jack asked.
"Nothing new since the bodies of the kidnappers turned up. We're working with LAPD to talk to known associates and family of the kidnappers to try and connect them to the case in any way. I keep waiting for someone to call us and make some ransom demands, but nothing so far. None of it adds up, Jack. I've looked at this from every angle, and it just doesn't make sense."
"I agree. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to kidnap that baby and then to silence the kidnappers. They want something. I just wish I knew what."
Bill and Jack ended their conversation. Jack promised to get back to CTU as soon as possible and then turned his attention back to driving. He had gotten off of the highway and was back on city streets. They were uncharacteristically vacant due to the curfew imposed by the president. Jack moved along them with ease; stopping briefly to show his ID and credentials to the police officers at each road block along the way. Even with the stops he made it to Wayne Palmer's condo in less than his estimated half hour.
Jack entered the building and buzzed Palmer's penthouse apartment.
"Jack?" Palmer said quietly through the intercom.
"Yes, it's me, Mr. Palmer," Jack confirmed.
"Come right up," Palmer instructed him.
Minutes later Jack knocked on the door. Wayne Palmer answered it himself. Jack greeted Palmer noting immediately that he looked much calmer than he had sounded on the phone. The apartment, that was awash with Secret Service, FBI and CTU agents earlier that day, was now quiet. Jack stood in the doorway for a few seconds to take it all in. When he snuck into the apartment that morning, he hadn't had time to process it all. The finality of the day struck him hard for a moment before he was able to gather his thoughts and move forward.
"What did you need to show me?" Jack asked.
Wayne said nothing and motioned for Jack to follow him in the direction of the study. Jack again noted what seemed to be an abrupt change in Palmer's demeanor. He seemed emotionless and somehow detached.
"I thought this might be of interest to you," Palmer said as he leaned over the desktop computer and deftly typed in commands. He turned the monitor to face Jack and then stood up straight. Jack couldn't help noticed the cold steely stare Wayne gave him. "Do I have your attention now?" he asked as the picture on the monitor took shape.
"You son-of-a-bitch! I will kill you if you hurt her!" Jack hissed as he watched live feed of Lily Almeida.
Despite the fact that he had never seen the child before, Jack had no doubt that he was looking at Tony and Michelle's issue. She was beautiful with light olive skin and thick black curly hair. She had Michelle's heart shaped face and high cheek bones. She appeared unharmed and little the worse for wear. It appeared that she had just woken up. She was still yawning and rubbing her eyes to clear them of sleep. The eight month old was sitting up in an old crib in a stark room. There were two stuffed animals in the crib and the baby seemed content at the moment with amusing herself by tossing the animals around the crib and crawling after them. Jack knew babies well enough to know that soon she would pull herself up on the side of the crib and start crying to get out. She would assume that her mother or father would come and rescue her from the confines of the crib. He wondered how she would react when a strange face appeared and how long they would let her cry before anyone responded to her.
"You bastard! Why are you involved in this? Did you set your brother up? What do you have to gain?" Jack was nearly apoplectic as he realized that Wayne Palmer was somehow at the root of this horrible day. "How could you do it? How could you kill your own brother?"
"David was a sap! Like you," Wayne Palmer said dismissively. "Everything was divided into good and bad, black and white. There were no gray zones for David. He started to put two and two together. He was about to figure out about the nerve gas and once he did, it wasn't going to take him long to tie me to it. If he'd kept his nose out of it, he'd still be alive, but not David. No, he couldn't leave it alone. Always crusading for justice and all of his other causes. That holier than thou attitude that people like the two of you have⦠I couldn't take it any more."
"So you killed him? You killed your brother? And you killed Michelle Dessler? And kidnapped her baby? Why Wayne? Why did you do it? What do you want?"
Wayne ignored his questions. "Right now, I would think your biggest concern would be how to get that baby back," he said as he pointed to the computer monitor.
Jack watched her for a moment. She was getting restless cooped up in the crib and, as he knew would happen, she pulled herself up on the rail and, although there was no audio, he knew she was chattering trying to get someone's attention. Jack swallowed hard. "Is she alright? Is someone going to take care of her? She needs food. She needs to be changed."
"The baby is just fine. She's our insurance right now so we'll make sure she's taken care of. Whether we continue to take care of her depends on you."
"What do you want from me?"
"We have a little problem that you need to solve."
Jack said nothing but waited for Wayne to continue.
"The problem is Martha Logan. She and David were very close. In fact I think they were closer than most people would guess."
"What are you suggesting?" Jack asked.
"Charles and Martha Logan's marriage has been on the rocks for years. Everyone knows that. Can you imagine being married to an ego as big as Charles Logan's? Martha's a bright, attractive woman. I know David noticed that. I think he took advantage of the situation."
"You think they were having an affair?"
"They may have been."
"So what if they were. Wasn't that their business? Why do you care?"
"Pillow talk, Jack. Pillow talk. I don't know what David told Martha. When they were apart, they talked on the phone regularly. They talked last night, in fact. And, if my sources are to be believed, Martha's come unhinged since she heard about David. I simply can't trust what she's going to do or what she's going to tell Logan. Martha's a loose end that we have to take care of."
"Are you telling me that you want Martha Logan dead?" Jack asked incredulously.
"It's the only way, Jack," Palmer said calmly. "And you're going to take care of that for me or else."
"Or else what?" Jack asked.
Palmer leaned over the computer and typed in additional commands. Jack watched the monitor as the camera angle changed. Jack was still looking at Lily Almeida who was now crying angrily to make her desire to get out of the crib known to all. But now the view was from a lower angle, as if the camera were sitting on the floor. A small box hung from the underside of the crib.
"What is that? What's under the crib?"
Palmer tapped the keys again. Jack watched as the camera moved in closer and he could see the object more clearly. It was a bomb. A digital read out on the front was counting down.
"The timer was set at 180 minutes when you walked in my door, Jack. You can see it now. It's down to 168. That's all the time you've got left. You kill Martha Logan in the next 168 minutes and Lily Almeida is safe and goes home with her father. Otherwise she goes boom just like her dearly departed mother."
"This is absurd. Martha Logan has Secret Service protection around the clock. There's no way to get near her."
"You're a resourceful guy, Jack. I'm sure you'll figure something out." Wayne looked at his watch. "You're wasting time. You better get on with this or that baby is history."
"Look, Wayne, this is crazy. No one can connect you to the nerve gas. CTU has accepted Christopher Henderson's dying confession. Even if Martha Logan talks, who would believe her? She doesn't have any proof and her psychiatric history is certainly no secret. Everyone would consider it the ravings of an insane woman who tragically lost a dear friend and possibly lover. The story of an affair could be leaked to the press. They'd eat it like candy. It would be all over the news. She would be instantly discredited. You'll walk away scot-free."
"I can't take that chance. Besides, now that you know the truth, you're not going to let me walk away. I know you. I know all about you. I know how you killed Nina Myers in cold blood. I read the report. They didn't charge you, but they could have. Nina wasn't a threat to you; you killed her because you hated her. And now you hate me. The second my back is turned, you'll empty your weapon into me." Wayne paused for a second as if to collect his thoughts. "I have two friends that are going to go with you and make sure you don't to find a way out of this." He pressed an intercom button on the phone. "Come in here, please," he said as he leaned in toward the phone. Then he focused his attention back on Jack. "When I have confirmation that Martha Logan is dead, I'll contact CTU and tell them where they can find the baby."
"What kind of assurance do I have that you'll do that?" Jack looked at the monitor at Lily who now, since no one was answering her cries, was in a full fledged panic. He was thankful that he couldn't hear her cry but was heartbroken just the same to watch her silent anguish over the monitor. "Let's face it. Once I kill Martha Logan, I'm a dead man. How can I make sure that you'll contact CTU?"
"You'll just have to trust me, Jack," Palmer said smiling and nodding in a most condescending manner.
Both Jack and Wayne turned toward a knock at the door. "In," Palmer called.
Two men entered the room. Both were taller than Jack by several inches. They wore dark, conservative suits that were tailored to emphasize their muscular bodies. "We're ready, Mr. Palmer."
"Good. So is Jack. A hundred and fifty-seven minutes, Jack," he said as he tapped the monitor. "Time's a-wasting."
